I should note, Rys is a Spartan, but he is wearing Marine armor. Because his Mjolnir was damaged beyond repair. Any armor is better than no armor, right? I hope I used the code correctly, this is my first real fanfic submission.

"Keep firing!" Recken screamed, Rys depressed the trigger of his rifle. The weapon came to life and spat a stream of 7.62mm rounds. The Elite in his sights fell, the muzzle flashes obscured his view. The rifle bucked, Rys gritted his teeth and held it steady. Another alien fell, it's midsection torn open, it wasn't enough. The assault was too intense, the Elites' numbers were too high, there had to be at least a thousand of them. A burst of plasma fire whipped past Rys, he cringed as the heat washed over him. Two hundred, that was the number of Marine's defending this position, a long trench at the end of a massive field. The field sat at the end of a valley, a natural meat grinder to any assaulting force. Spent shell casings began to fill the trench, the sound of them hitting the dirt was drowned out by the chaotic storm of gunfire.

"Die die die!" The Marine next to Rys was yelling. They were dying, Elite's fell in droves, all of them charging for the trench. The rifle clicked as the magazine emptied, Rys pulled the empty magazine out and jammed a new one in. He barely heard the clack of the bolt as he cycled it, he lowered the rifle and kept firing. An Elite stopped in it's tracks, clutching at half of it's face that was no longer there. Rys felt his arms trembling, pure adrenaline pounded through his veins. The thumping rhythm of his pulse filled his ears, he didn't even flinch as a plasma bolt burned through the man next to him. The soldier slumped foreword onto his rifle, the weapon discharged the last of it's magazine.

"Mortars!" Recken yelled. "Fire!". There was a series of thumps as the weapons fired. A second passed as the rounds arced into the sky, then plummeted back to earth. Geysers of dirt and grass exploded into the air. Whole groups of Elite's ceased to exist, limbs and chunks of flesh were thrown everywhere. These were not normal Elite's, they were Purifiers. The Purifiers were separate from the normal Covenant forces, operating outside of their command. They were a strange group, with strange beliefs, and strange weapons. Very few of them used plasma weapons, almost all of them chose to use something else, something much more brutal, if a bit more elegant.

A short sword, around three feet long. It had a straight, polished blade, every one of them carried this weapon. And almost every one of them had it drawn and ready as they charged foreword. The aliens were clad in white armor with gold trim. The humans did have on advantage, the Purifiers did not have shields. "We can't stop them!" A Marine yelled, Rys fumed. If I'm going to die here, I want to die on my feet, not on my ass. He thought. 7.62mm rounds punched holes through the Elite's, row after row of them fell, their comrades trampled over them. Rys's rifle ran dry again, he didn't have any more magazines. He drew his sidearm, an M6D, the small pistol jumped as he fired. An Elite's head exploded as the explosive round pierced the helmet it wore. Another salvo of mortar fire impacted, the thunder of the explosions drowned out the screams of the aliens. It still wasn't enough. Once the Purifiers got close enough to use their blades it was over, the humans didn't have anything to use against them.

Three hundred yards. Rys noted, the aliens were closing fast. The air smelled of gunpowder and burned flesh, it stung Rys's eyes. He blinked it away as he swapped M6D clips, the ground shook as a line of explosions blossomed out on the field. Rys grinned, mines were such wonderful devices. Two hundred yards. He wasn't going to stand here and wait for the Elites to come kill him. This was the stupidest thing he'd ever seen the Covenant do, such a waste of good soldiers. He reminded himself that these were Purifiers, They're totally insane. He added. The gunfire started to drop in intensity as the ammo began to run out. Rys heard the soldier next to him cursing under his breath as he searched for a fresh magazine, he grinned again.

At this point, he didn't care whether he lived or died. Death would solve everything, all of his problems, every last one of them. If he lived, he would simply be thrown back into the fighting later, there was no such thing as R&R anymore. Rys glanced down the line at Recken, their commanding officer, a lieutenant. He grimaced as he fired at the approaching aliens, Rys came to a decision. I want to die on my feet. He dropped his M6D and pulled his knife from it's sheath on his leg. He stared at the oncoming aliens, his eyes seemed to lose focus. He could feel himself moving, but didn't feel in control. Rys climbed out of the trench and sprinted towards the Purifiers, bullets tore through the air around him as he ran. Being killed by friendly fire was a possibility, Rys didn't care, he would die just the same. It didn't matter how. No, it didn't matter how, death was the same no matter where you went. Cold, dark, and unpleasant. It was the details of how you died that separated you from anyone else.

Dirt and grass sprayed in his face as bullets impacted on the ground next to him. The Purifiers almost looked surprised as he threw himself headlong into their formation. They quickly went on the attack, he ducked one Elite's strike and plunged the knife into it's stomach. The alien dropped with a scream, Rys snatched its blade up. He spun and decapitated one of them, then turned and sank the blade into another Elite's chest. A pair of them came from behind, Rys turned, leaving the blade in the alien. He sidestepped as one of the Elite's slashed at him diagonally. He felt strangely calm as he grabbed the Elite's wrist and twisted it. Bone broke and the alien dropped its blade, Rys grabbed it out of mid air. A powerful horizontal slash opened the Elites midsection, fluids and bits of entrails spilled onto the ground. The aliens partner attacked, Rys parried its blow with his own blow, bouncing the Elites blade right back at it. Rys lunged foreword and slashed the Elites throat, blood ran down the blade onto his hands. He pushed the Elite away, it collapsed, blood still gushing from its wound. More attacked, and Rys met their charge with a charge of his own.

He obliterated an Elites skull with a running punch, the bone and armor disintegrating with a wet crack. One of the aliens stepped behind him, Rys felt a burning pain as it slashed his shoulder. He took a step away from the Purifier, so that he was just out of its reach. He prepared to attack, but a burst of gunfire tore through the alien. Bloody holes appeared in it's armor as the rounds entered its back and exploded out it's chest. Particles of flesh and blood sprayed Rys as the twitching alien crumpled to the ground. Rys felt something behind him, he whirled around as he raised the sword. Metal rang as his blade met a Purifiers, the Elite snarled and attacked again. He parried again, the swords sliding over each other, the alien was very strong. The Elite withdrew it's blade and took a quick step to the left, then three to the right. Rys didn't have time to react as the alien made a diagonal upwards slash. He felt the blade enter his chest, his flesh parting before it, he lurched backwards. He was out of the aliens reach, pain lanced through his chest. It was a burning pain, it seemed to fill him with energy. He roared and charged, the Elite lowered its stance as he ran towards it. He heard an angry whistle as a bullet flew past him, it blew through the Elites' shoulder, causing the alien to stagger back.

Rys slashed its knee, the Purifier roared in pain and dropped to its other knee. He stood over the alien, the blade raised over his head. A bullet cut through his left thigh, he grunted and cut the Elites head off. The headless body slumped foreword onto the grass; Rys felt dizzy. He looked around, groups of the Elites were everywhere. A thick dust was in the air, stirred up during the Purifiers charge. His breath came quick, the thumping of his pulse seemed to grow louder. His grip on the blades handle was white-knuckle tight. He looked down at his feet, the Elites head sat in the grass. Blood ran down his leg from the bullet wound and pooled around his boot, his chest wound throbbed. The blade had gone straight through his armor, he wasn't sure how, they seemed to go through anything.

Footsteps on the grass brought the world back into focus, a group of ten Elites was approaching through the dust. Rage welled up inside of him, making his hands tremble, the lead Purifier roared a challenge. Something snapped in his head, a strange calm spilled into his mind, extinguishing the rage. He broke into a run, the Elite's prepared to defend themselves. The world became a swirling blur of green, blue, and brown as he ran, all he could hear were his footsteps, and his own quickened breathing. There was a loud hiss from somewhere overhead, Rys ignored it. A massive explosion created a wall of dirt and flame in front of him, the ground shook. Another detonation showered him with dirt, there was a sharp pain as a metal fragment punctured his chest armor. It tore through his lung, shattered a rib, and burst out his back.

He fell, his face going straight into the bloodstained grass. Warmth filled Rys's chest as he rolled onto his back. The blade was gone; the Elites were nowhere to be seen. Mortars. He thought, more rounds landed all around him. Dirt and grass rained down on him from the detonations. Rys touched the warm spot on his chest, his hand came back coated in blood. The warmth faded and was replaced with an icy cold, it started to spread across his body, starting with the wound. So, this is what it's like... He thought. This is what it's like... Dark spots swam in front of his eyes, he tried to get up but couldn't find the strength.

"Looks like I am going to die on my ass." He said and laughed, then coughed. He could taste blood, the darkness started to deepen at the edges of his vision. Rys closed his eyes, he felt like he was floating, he tried to move again. His arms and legs wouldn't respond. He felt something close by, eyes watching him. He heard voices around him, they sounded distorted and distant. He suddenly had a rising sensation, as if someone had picked him up. Then the darkness truly closed in, totally shutting everything out.

Time had passed, he didn't know how much. A single voice spoke, it sounded garbled, static phased in and out. It almost sounded like a radio or com transmission. Rys realized that it was just that, was he dead? A light snapped on, he could see it through his eye lids, which told him he was indeed alive. He opened his eyes a little, there was a white ceiling above him with glaringly bright white lights embedded in it. His eyes adjusted and he took a look around. He was in a medical bay, lying on a bed; a light hum seemed to come from every direction. He realized with a start that he was on a ship, one obviously of human make. There were others in the room with him, Marines, most were in critical condition. One man was covered in bandages, black, cracked skin peeked out from under them. Rys felt sorry for him, plasma burns were horribly painful. A door in the wall to Rys's left hissed open, Recken stepped into the room.

"Lieutenant." Rys said, realizing he was unable to move his arm to salute. "Corporal." The lieutenant replied, cracking a smile. "You are one crazy bastard, you know that, right?" Recken asked in a mocking tone. Rys laughed, "Just what I wanted to hear sir, maybe now I'll be discharged on the grounds of mental instability." Now it was Reckens turn to laugh, "Don't count on it." Recken moved on to the others, talking with each one, those that were able to talk at least. Rys took a deep breath and coughed, breathing hurt. He stared up at the ceiling, maybe there was hope yet. Maybe he would get to die on his feet.